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User blog:WayfinderOwl/BTM: 'Tis The Season 8
The Last Curtain Falls Absolute chaos. Everyone running around back stage, desperate to get everything just right before the curtains went up. Becky had taken to the AV room, talking only to us through the walkie-talkie. The whole school had turned up to watch. Pete and I peeped through the curtain watching them. Each and every single kid in school had the same expression; boredom. We all were. Three weeks cooped up in this place would do that to anybody. They lacked the luxury to sneak out like we did. The jocks however seemed to find ways to amuse themselves. Seeing who could lift a nerd off the ground the highest and inflict the most pain in a wedgie at the same time. They seemed happy enough—the nerds however were not amused. Some greasers were smoking, and exhaling smoke into a brown paper bag. How had the prefects not caught them? Russell and the gang were aiming spitballs at the preps. “Show time,” I muttered. “The time flew by so quick,” Pete replied. “Didn’t it just.” I made a trip back stage, hoping to get some last minute tailoring to the ugly gray suit I had to wear. Louisa seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown. So many costumes needed fitting, to a point where the other two in her posse—Kendra and Kenzie had to help her. Milo himself tried hitting on the tall blonde, Cheryl, to no avail. The look she gave him said it all. He was completely barking up the wrong tree. Had to give him props for trying. “AV to Scrooge. AV to Scrooge,” said Becky over the walkie-talkie we all had to carry. We were given one each, and forbidden to put it down for even a second, unless we had to go onstage. “Scrooge to AV,” I replied. “What’s up, Becky?” “Slight problem. The crucial part of Crabblesnitch’s old memories is corrupt.” “Shit. I’m coming right up.” I turned to Pete. “Where are my clothes? I got to go see Becky, and no one can see me in this suit.” Pete fetched my clothes from where I had left them—near the sleeping bags heaped up in a quiet corner. I changed into them. I tapped Milo on the shoulder, and told him that Becky needed us. He nodded. “Alright, LB, I’m coming.” The two of us headed out the curtain, and up the aisle, completely unnoticed by the entire student body. Out in the foyer, I asked Milo a question that was on my mind for a couple of days now. “Why do you keep calling me LB?” “Do I? I hadn’t noticed.” He knew alright, he just didn’t want to tell me. I headed up the stairs, with Milo at my heels. There was not much we could do. In the time it had taken for Milo and me to get there, the Art Freaks girls had joined them. The little one with pigtails was looking out the window, watch the prefect Max scratch his back and drawing him. The Asian girl’s fingers pecked away at a laptop, cleaning up the footage better than anyone I knew. There was no need for me and Milo at all. The girls had it covered. One of the girls looked to me. She was tall, wore glasses, and her brown hair pinned up into a knot at the top of her head. She smiled. I smiled back. Becky grabbed me by the arm, and steered me back out the AV room. Ten minutes until the curtain goes up, as she told me. She made sure to go back into the room, and eject Milo from his paradise. A room full of girls. ^^^ The curtains went up, and I was thrown on stage—almost literally because Antonia pulled the curtains up too early. Everything went to plan. The play went on, and predictably bored the hell out of the entire student body. Gary’s entrance woke a few kids up from their stupor—I later found out Milo had an idea at the last minute, Gary should fly across the stage on a wire and land before me. Chains rattling and all. Sarah wandered onto the stage as the Ghost of Christmas Past. Giving every kid a lot to laugh about, and reminding the headmaster of a few childhood traumas. I played my part well, pretending these memories were my own. Adding on obvious digs, that I should never have let the past change me. The more important one happened. For Christmas present, Becky walked down the auditorium aisle, arms held high, she declared, “Scrooge, I come to you now. See what you are doing to all these children. See now, the very thing you kept from them.” Cue the footage of Bullworth as it is. All the audio was wiped—Gary had made sure of that. I doubted he wanted anyone to know what we talked about the afternoon he told me whatever he was planning was back on. To be fair, he had done nothing to me since his threat at Halloween. Apart from punching me in the face for accusing him of being in love with Becky. Many confused faces turned to look at one another. Talking amongst themselves, all of them with the same question on their lips; when did they record that? Last video struck a chord with not just the kids of this school, but of Crabblesnitch himself. Ivan came onto the stage, shrouded in a black cloak. The very image of death. He completely ignored me, as we had all planned. He pointed right up at the balcony where Crabblesnitch sat, and gave his speech. I had to admit, his overly tired insomniac voice really did it justice. “You continue down this path, and this is what you will unleash…” The footage played, projected onto the back wall of the stage. The food fight riot we had instigated. From Ted Thompson getting hit in the back of the head with fruit—and slamming his head on the table—to a full out food fight war between enraged kids. “CHAOS! Your move.” Crabblesnitch went quiet. Staring at the stage. His face an emotionless mask. His eyes scanning the auditorium. Slowly he stood, and walked out. We played out the last few scenes. Blah, blah, blah. Scrooge is a changed man, all that. When Pedro declared the line, “God bless us, everyone,” it was done. Not just the play, but our isolation. Over the old crackled P.A. system, Crabblesnitch said; “Merry Christmas. Go. Leave this building. Evacuation is over.” Cheers erupted through the auditorium, echoing out into the foyer. All of the kids of Bullworth wasted no time, flooding out the auditorium to see something they missed; natural light and snow. Many congratulations were in order. Practically everyone who was in the play or the production had a few words to share with each other. Becky, Gary, Pete and I walked out together—once we were all free from the costumes and in our regular clothes. “So, that was different,” said Pete. “We got Crabblesnitch to admit he was wrong,” said Becky. She patted Gary on the back. “Merry Christmas.” He returned the two words I doubted he even believed in the meaning. Unnoticed by her, he cringed at her touch. Not as if he didn’t want her to touch him, almost as if he would rather allow it, but pretend she hadn’t. He watched her walk down the steps, and head towards the girl’s dorms. “I won’t tell her,” I promised. “You do, and I’ll kill you,” Gary threatened. He turned to face me. “I’m serious. I really will kill you.” Staring him out, I said, “Can’t you just for once say thank you, like a normal person?” “But why spoil what we have? It works so well for us. Oh, and I’m keeping to my word. So, you go back to your dorm, spoon your boyfriend. Live in blissful ignorance, while the knife—that is my wrath—dangles over your head. See you around, moron.” He headed down the snow and footprint covered stairs, leaving Pete and I alone. “Do I even want to know what that was about?” asked Pete. “Not really.” I headed down the steps, followed by Pete. “Trust me. It isn’t worth it.” “Gotcha. How about a beam cola? I think it is my treat.” “Alright, man. You know, Pete, I got to admit, I could get used to this whole Christmas thing.” Pete laughed. “Pulling a Scrooge on us. Hating Christmas, but now you’re a changed man.” “Well, you know what they say. ‘Tis the season.” Category:Blog posts Category:WayfinderOwl's Fanfiction